


the blood in your mouth

by leishenQ



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Blood Kink, Boys In Love, Fist Fights, Hair-pulling, Jealousy, M/M, Making Out, Mild Blood, Rough Kissing, starts rough but ends soft, the blood is pretty tame imo, yosuke needs to work on his feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27231850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leishenQ/pseuds/leishenQ
Summary: Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.-Richard SikenHis hair is unkempt from where your hands had tugged at it. His lip is swollen. He looks good, and you just don’t know what to do with yourself, with this urge you feel to… tear him apart, toownhim. You don’t know what any of it means... You aren’t completely sure you even want to know.
Relationships: Hanamura Yosuke/Narukami Yu, Hanamura Yosuke/Persona 4 Protagonist, Hanamura Yosuke/Seta Souji
Kudos: 25





	the blood in your mouth

**Author's Note:**

> hello, why are fistfights so sexy?

_ Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine. _

You’re standing on the bank of the Samegawa, across from him, hardly a few paces away. It’s  _ him,  _ your partner. The person whose nape you stare at in class; who you keep always in the corner of your eye during battle; who you think of at night, trying to fall asleep, unable to get his silhouette out from the backs of your eyelids, until it melts into the flickering images of your dreams. The boy who makes your insides feel as if they’re tied and tangled. The one who makes you feel confident, and yet at the same time makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.

He’s important to you. You’ve told him as much— _ You’re special to me, you know?— _ and the power of your emotions scared you even then. But he listened, he wasn’t fazed, and you felt he understood.

That was months ago now, and you’ve been avoiding him for the better part of the fall, trying to sort through everything in your head. Your emotions feel too messed up to begin to untangle.

You admire him so much. He’s everything you wish you were, and for that you’re both proud and envious. He’s sure on his feet, confident, magnetic, kind, smart. He seems to always know what to say to support those he cares about. He seems to almost never make mistakes, unlike you who makes them constantly: falling on your ass, crashing your bike, dropping your kunai, saying the worst thing at the worst time. You feel lucky to even be able to have a guy like him as your friend, much less your best friend, your  _ partner,  _ the one always by your side. (You don’t know why he bothers, sometimes.) But when he does spend time with Chie or Ai or Naoto, you can’t help the sour feeling in your stomach. And the fact that it almost feels like jealousy just makes you more sick, makes you all the more furious at yourself.

You want to stop thinking about it. You want to stop thinking all together.

And here he is, across from you now-- you’re the one that asked him out here. It’s a bit breezy on the flat of the plains, and the breeze tousles his hair.

You open your mouth to start talking, and you ramble, and it feels like a mess of words spilling out over your tongue. But it’s Souji, and despite how messed up you feel, how wrung out you feel, you’re fairly certain he’ll be able to understand something of what you’re saying, even when you’re not sure you understand it yourself.

He looks at you the whole time, as you gesticulate and stumble over your words, and his gaze burns you.

“So… I want you to hit me! Give me a good one, knock out all this crap inside of me!” You tremble at your core, saying it out loud, feeling it resonate in the air. Souji doesn’t move, so you continue: “I want to be equal to you. I want us to stand shoulder to shoulder. So c’mon!”

Something about your tone of voice or your posture must communicate to him how serious you are, and he understands. (He always understands.)

“Then let’s get equal.”

It wasn’t what you’d originally intended, to hit him back; but as you wrap your head around it, there’s something special about it, hitting each other, fair and square. You’re the one that gets to bring Souji down a notch, smear his perfection just a little bit. You want to see it, you want to see his bruised face, to know that you were the one that did that, and he  _ let  _ you.

So you nod and steel yourself, and the two of you rush toward each other with zero finesse. When his fist connects with your nose, all you see is white behind your eyelids. Your hand hurts from where it meets with the bone of his cheek-- you think you got him pretty good too. He topples backwards, and you stumble down with him in a tangle of limbs. As you’re going down you elbow him in the ribs, and he grunts, clawing at your arm hard enough to sting. The adrenaline and aggression pool and twist in your stomach. 

When you open your eyes, he’s on the ground, and you’re on top of him, a fist clenched in his shirt. Your punch split his lip, and his teeth are red with the blood of it as it drips down over his chin. He’s panting.

His eyes are boring into you, telling you something, but you don’t know what. All you know is you’ve never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in your entire life—never wanted anything so badly before. How come he makes you feel like this, how come he gets to completely flip your world upside down and yet barely look fazed? Your stomach feels like a deep dark pit, and suddenly frustration floods up in you, and you’re so angry you don’t know what to do with yourself. You want to mark him, to destroy him. 

Your hand is in his hair, and it’s yanking backwards, and his chin is tilting up, mouth open, and the sound of half-pain that comes out of his mouth is otherworldly. Your chest feels too tight. The long white expanse of his neck—you could almost take a bite. Instead, you yank his head to the side now, and he looks at you out of the corner of his eyes with his head tilted like that, breaths coming quick, and the blood on his lips and teeth and chin is pure sin. 

(Maybe there’s something wrong with you.)

You get off of him. Your legs are weak and you feel a bit lightheaded, so instead of standing, you roll over onto the grass next to him, laying on your back and looking up at the sky, trying to catch your breath. You try to calm your jumbled thoughts, but you feel overwhelmed with everything, your blood thrumming in your ears, your skin too hot and raw, your breath coming in gasps, almost choking. You open your eyes again and focus on the light of a star beginning to appear as the sun sets and the sky gets darker. The two of you lay there in silence as you come down from … whatever that was. When you close your eyes again, you think about the blood on his chin and in his mouth, and _god,_ do you wish it was yours. You wish you could kiss him so hard your lip bleeds, too, and the blood smears between you until you can’t tell whose blood is whose.

You hear the rustle of the grass as he gets up on one elbow to look at you. The smolder in his eyes from earlier has dampened, and now he looks at you in contemplation. His hair is unkempt from where your hands had tugged at it. His lip is swollen. He looks good, and you just don’t know what to do with yourself, with this urge you feel to… tear him apart, to  _ own _ him. You don’t know what any of it means. You aren’t completely sure you want to know.

Souji’s voice is low and rough when he speaks. “Was that what you wanted? Did it do the trick?”

Yes. No. I want to do it again and again, all of it.

Souji continues, “…Your nose is bleeding.” You sit up and rub your wrist under your nose and indeed, it comes away red. “…Here,” Souji smiles softly, kneeling next to you, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbing at the blood under your nose.

He’s close. Close enough that you feel each of his exhales, breath ghosting over your face. As he dabs and wipes at your face, you examine his attentive expression, catching whiffs of his hair and his blood and his sweat and his breath, and your heart is in your throat. (You’ve never wanted anything more.)

You pull his wrist away from your face and give in to the desire to devour him. It may be a bit hard for a first kiss, but it feels right. 

He fists a hand in your shirt like a lifeline, pulling you closer. The taste of the coppery tang of his blood twists just right in your gut, so you run your tongue over the split in his lip, and it must sting because he hisses and lets out that high, short, half-pain half-pleasure sound again. Such a vulnerable sound… you feel powerful, almost drunk with it. He’s trembling in your arms, threading fingers into your hair, mussing it up. 

You don’t even remember giving your body the command to do so, but find yourself pushing him back down onto the grass again, holding both of his wrists in one hand above his head, pinning him down with your body, uncaring of the mud and grass stains you’re certain are accumulating on the knees of your uniform pants. He lays pliant and open, muscle and sinew lax just for you. 

You can feel the outline of his dick against your hip as it fills out.

You want to yank his hair, so you do, and he turns to putty. Who knew how easy it was to tear him down like this? This opens up the expanse of his neck again, and you suck there, glad to finally get your mouth on him, feeling ravenous, sucking and nibbling roughly. His pulse jackhammers under your lips, and you bite down hard enough to make him yelp and groan. He’s jerking and straining in your arms; you can only do your best to hold him still. 

Straddling his thigh sends a zing of lightning through you, like zio but in a good way, and he gasps as you press down over his groin. He ruts up against you, and you push back in equal force. You’re grinding against each other through your clothes, fueled by desperation, and he’s grabbing your ass in both hands, hard, keening in his throat. The feeling of his dick as it presses against your hip through your uniforms drives you crazy. He wants this, too, he needs you just as badly.

He opens his mouth to you, gives in to you, gives everything to you. You nibble at the cut on his lip, and it begins weeping with blood anew. You lick it up and press it back into his mouth, and he lets out an aborted moan. There’s  _ so much _ pent up in you, and in him too, you can tell. You just want him to be yours, want him to keep moaning like that, want him to say your name again, call you  _ partner  _ in that voice. You want to tear him to pieces and put him back together again. 

You grab his hips roughly, and there’s something to the thought of you leaving bruises there, bruises on Souji’s hips in the shape of your fingers, a visible representation of this, of you. You’re rutting against each other fully now, and his hands run up under your shirt to scrape nails against your back, and it’s good, a reminder that this is real,  _ you’re _ the one doing this to him, not Chie or Rise or Naoto. 

Suddenly you want more of him, you want your hands on his skin, and so you take the best you can probably get considering the two of you are on a riverbank: you pull back just enough to thread your hand between the two of you and yank down his zipper, reaching into his pants to get your fist around the heat of his dick. It’s slick with precum. He gasps at the touch, biting his lower lip for an instant before releasing it in pain. He’s hot and sweaty and flushed pink, pupils dilated wide, and  _ oh,  _ you think, _ I love him.  _

Eager to reciprocate, Souji gets a hand into your slacks to grab at your dick as well, fumbling before starting up a rhythm, flicking his wrist. The wet slide of his calloused fingers over the head of your dick is excruciatingly good-- feels like an epiphany. 

He bites down at the nape of your neck like a vice, and you can't help the "p-partner, ah-" that escapes from your lips. You're chasing and chasing, and nothing else matters in that moment except the two of you, the heat of his hand, the smell of his hair,  _ partner, partner, partner-- _

The way his voice pitches up at the end when he says your name, shuddering apart beneath you and in your hands, is absolutely electrifying. Something about the fact that  _ you’re _ the one that got him to this point just adds to the tightness in your gut, and with a few more uncoordinated jerks of his hand, you're spilling over his fist. 

Both of you simply lie there for a minute, boneless and gasping.

After you clean up best you can, you lie facing each other. Now that the waves of your emotional storm have calmed, everything seems a bit lighter. Souji’s face is soft and relaxed, mirroring how you feel as well. Maybe you  _ can  _ actually say it.

"Hey, partner? I've been thinking a lot… that’s sort of why I’ve been avoiding you.” You cough. “I was trying to process everything in my head. I’m not sure that I have it all figured out yet, but even though my emotions are kinda a mess, I’m pretty sure… No, I am sure,” a gulp of air, "I like you." You hold your breath. 

"Yosuke," He chuckles, taking your hand into both of his own, running his thumb over your bloodied knuckles. "I like you too. I have for a long time now.” He hesitates slightly, as if unsure whether what he’s going to say is a good idea: “If I can ask, what kind of emotions are you talking about?”

You let out a long breath. “Well, when you spend a lot of time with the others instead of with me, I get kind of jealous..." a sigh of frustration. "You're  _ my  _ partner, sometimes I wish I could have you all to myself. ...Heh, that’s pretty selfish, isn’t it.”

“It’s okay to be a little selfish, everyone deserves to be selfish sometimes. And to be honest, I get jealous too, when you talk about girls.” He can’t quite meet your eyes, embarrassed. 

You’re sure you’re gawking. “Jealous… because of me? Hah.” You shake your head. “There’s nothing to be jealous of. Girls are pretty, sure, but _you’re_ the one I like. You’re the one I want to be with… The only partner I want.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen such a bright smile on Souji’s face before. “Yeah?” 

You lean forward to kiss his smile until he’s breathless.

The two of you separate after a moment, and he sighs into your mouth: “So… partner-partners?”

You grasp his hand, feeling the bones and calluses under your fingers. “I’d like that.”

His smile tips up towards the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> not super satisfied with this one, but you can't win em all huh?  
> if you'd like, you can find me at @leishenQ on twitter!


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